Borne back ceaselessly into the past
by behindthatcover
Summary: Daisy Buchanan made all the wrong choices in her youth. Neglected by her husband, not a day goes by without her regretting her choice to let Jay Gatsby go. Her past comes back to haunt her, and little by little, she's driven by desire and longing to madness.
1. Chapter 1

"Daisy Buchanan, you're the worst wife a man can ever have!" Tom Buchanan spat at Daisy as she ran sobbing to her room.

She flung herself in front of her dressing table, tears coursing down her once beautiful face, ruining her carefully applied makeup.

Daisy was forty years old, but looked fifty. Grief that stemmed from her husband's endless affairs had played a big part in ageing her. Gone were the days that she could charm almost any man with her once-famous bewitching looks. Tom, who once adored her, preferred the company of women half her age and grew increasingly frustrated over her tantrums directed at him over them.

"Jay, oh Jay," Daisy whispered to herself, "I should never have let you go."

It had been seventeen years since she had heard of his death, but she could still remember him as clearly as if she had seen him the day before. The warmth of his arms, the scent of his body, the soothing caress of his voice.

Daisy, you stupid girl, you were so blind you chose the dull rock over the glittering diamond, she chided herself, her heart filling with the familiar sense of regret which had haunted her for the past seventeen years.

Jay Gatsby appeared in Daisy's dreams again that night. He was at one of his wild parties at his enormous estate. He was surrounded by adoring young ladies who were of exquisite beauty, like flowers in full bloom in the springtime. She was trying to draw his attention away from the women who clung to him like houseflies to piece of juicy fruit. As Daisy forced her way through the crowd, she felt her body crumbling, crumbling slowly to dust and fading away. "Jay!" she tried to scream, "I'm here, your Daisy, I'm here!" But Jay did not tear his eyes away from the adoring faces surrounding him and did not see her, and what remained of her was carried away by the wind.

Daisy woke up, her arms flailing wildly in the air, her heart pounding with terror. Jay had always loved her, always chosen her over any other woman he could have had. Surely he would still have loved her despite her fading appearances?

The next morning, Daisy made her way down to breakfast, her eyes red and swollen and her wrinkles more pronounced than ever. Her bob was messy and unkempt and she made no effort to tame it. Jay still loved me when I had messy hair, Daisy reasoned to herself. To her, Tom's opinion no longer mattered.

Despite the elaborate flower arrangement in the middle of the mahogany breakfast table and the cheerful landscape paintings hung above the unlit fireplace, a certain air of coldness permeated the dining room. Tom's only reaction to Daisy's entrance into the room was to butter his toast with unnecessary force. Pammy, Daisy's twenty-year-old daughter, mumbled a hasty "good morning." Daisy knew that right after breakfast, Pammy would make her way to one of her numerous male admirers' houses, just like she herself used to do so many years ago.

There was nothing to do in her dreary house, in her dreary life, in this dreary country. Daisy had no motivation to do anything. After breakfast, Daisy was left alone in the vast emptiness of the estate, gazing at the circular swimming pool in the garden, which was an unintentional cruel replica of Jay's pool. Sometimes, Daisy was convinced that she saw Jay cutting the surface of the pool with his perfect strokes, like he used to do to delight her.

Alone in her room, Daisy loved to dressed up. She pretended that she would be going to one of Jay's house parties. Her diamonds and pearls were strewn across her bed, her priceless evening gowns were heaped on the carpet. It was the only way for Daisy to cope with her grief.

Sometimes, in her full splendour, twirling in front of the mirror, she would see Jay behind her. "Daisy darling," he would murmur, causing her heart to skip a beat, "you're so beautiful." But when she stretched out her arms to reach for him, her hands only fell on thin air.

Daisy loved Jay's house parties simply because there were so many people. People of all backgrounds and all races would throng Jay Gatsby's mansion. Even though Daisy went to the parties with her reluctant husband, she would be able to slip away from him and blend in with the crowd. Her heart pounding in her chest, giggling breathlessly, she would run into his mansion, up the winding steps, into Jay's room and launch herself into his arms.

"My Daisy's a naughty little minx," Jay would tease her, and at the sound of his voice Daisy would grow weak at the knees. Then there would be no more words, only the pleasurable sensation of Jay's lips on her forehead, lips and neck. "Someday darling, you will be mine," Jay had always fervently promised her, his voice husky with passion.

"What would you want to do if we ran away together one day?" Jay had asked Daisy one night, his lips almost brushing hers, their clothes in a pile on the floor, the Egyptian cotton bed sheets bundled around them.

"Go to Paris," Daisy responded casually, leaning her head against his shoulder. Daisy had not taken Jay's question seriously, she lived each day in a light-hearted manner, flitting from party to party, and running into Jay's arms in the night. Giving up the frivolous lifestyle so familiar to her was out of the question. She had suggested running away before, but she had not meant it then.

Daisy never dreamt that Jay would take her words seriously. And as she grew older, the pang of regret that she had never did what she had carelessly uttered that night haunted her every day.


	2. Chapter 2

Daisy stared at herself in the mirror, the priceless pearls and diamonds hanging on her frame. It suddenly hit her that she had no one to dress up for, no one to impress anymore. She smiled bitterly at herself in the floor length mirror.

The next few weeks past in the same depressing manner, with the occasional sneer from Tom and the constant absence of Pammy. Sadness and loneliness gnawed at her heart.

Then one day, as Daisy was picking at her food, she heard a voice calling her name. "Daisy darling, have you missed me?" it murmured. She looked up, her heart filling with hope. Jay Gatsby was sitting besides her, helping himself to the potatoes and roast chicken. Why hadn't anyone noticed his presence? Daisy thought wildly. Her husband was pouring ale for himself, his face steadily redder and redder after every glass.

"Tom, do you notice anything different?" Daisy ventured.

He glanced up, startled that his wife would address him after weeks of stony silence. "Are you running a temperature?" he sneered, "What an idiotic question to ask, of course not!"

She was stung at his answer and did not reply. Jay's presence offered a kind of comfort, but Daisy worried that he would proof to be another figment of her imagination if she reached out to touch him.

"My, Daisy, how did you stand being married to such a man for so long! What did he do to his face, empty rouge all over it?" Jay offered his standard unflattering opinion on Tom's appearance. Daisy sniggered and Tom frowned at her.

"And what do you find so amusing?" he questioned with an air of annoyance. Daisy tried to keep a straight face but failed as she glanced to her side and saw Jay miming piling on blusher onto his face with a large invisible brush.

"My wife has indeed gone mad! I have a madwoman living under my roof!" Tom's voice rose in anger.

Daisy shuddered. She hated and feared Tom's temper and almost automatically, she reached out for Jay's hand. In the past, he had always been her comfort and refuge, the sole person she turned to in her times of need.

But her hand closed on thin air again, and the teasing Jay was nowhere to be found. He had vanished, proven to be another phantom made up by her troubled mind. "Don't go..." Daisy whispered, feeling the tears well up in her eyes. "I need you..."

Tom Buchanan glanced at her, shook his head in irritation and with a gesture of his hand, ordered the maids to escort Daisy back to her room.

The moment the door shut behind her, Daisy crumbled into a heap on the snowy white carpet and allowed her tears to flow. She could almost feel the soft caress of Jay's hands on her back, but when she turned, her hopes were crushed. She was alone, utterly alone.

Daisy crawled to her side table, and through the tears which obstructed her vision, managed to locate a drawing of herself hidden under a thick pile of photographs. It was no ordinary drawing. In the drawing, she was not wearing anything except for the diamonds and pearls draped over her naked body. She was resting on a pile of silk cushions somewhere in the vast expanse of Jay's magnificent bed.

And yet again, the persistent ropes of her memory hauled her back to the past.

Daisy vividly remembered the long red carpet spread from the very entrance of his estate all the way up to the front steps of his mansion. A musky, seductive scent permeated the night air and hundreds and hundreds of meticulously placed candles lined the seemingly never-ending carpet. Daisy felt her heart quicken with excitement. Mystery and romance was thick in the air. Jay's manservants had lined the carpet, offering her glasses and glasses of wine "Mademoiselle, welcome to Paris." one had murmured, bowing low.

So this was another dreamscape thought up by Jay...Daisy thought in wonder. There were indeed no limits to the power of his imagination.

She stepped up the front steps and through the door. Just as she stepped over the threshold, she felt herself being blindfolded by familiar fingers. "Since you're in Paris, would you like a painting, Mademoiselle?" the voice crooned, sending thrills of exhilaration down her spine. And without waiting for an answer, the owner of the voice picked her up and despite her half-hearted squeals of protest, carried her up winding stairs, down long corridors and finally into a large, quiet, bedroom.

Slowly, carefully, Daisy lifted the blindfold from her eyes.

Jay's bedroom was dark except for the large, opulent bed in one corner, piled high with cushions and silk shawls. Light fixtures from the ceiling illuminated it, casting an enchanting glow on the scene. A little way from the bed was a single chair, an easel and a selection of pencils.

It slowly dawned on Daisy that Jay was going to draw her. "When in Paris, do as the Parisians do. Oui? Non?" Jay drawled in an exaggerated French accent. "You like it, don't you, darling? The Paris setting...all of these..." his brows creased in sudden worry as he saw Daisy standing expressionless, too overwhelmed to respond.

"Like it? I love it, it's absolutely gorgeous!" a sudden outpouring of emotions gushed from Daisy. She ran up to Jay and in a most unladylike manner, covered his face with spontaneous kisses.

Jay's reassured smile returned to his face. "Well then darling, with or without?" he asked mischievously.

With...or without? Daisy thought in confusion. "Clothes, Daisy darling, would you rather be drawn with or without clothes?" Jay purred.

Daisy felt a blush creep up slowly from her neck and gradually spread over her face. But a sense of recklessness filled her, something that she had never felt before and she murmured, "I want to be wearing nothing, nothing except for pearls and diamonds."


	3. Chapter 3

Slowly, she stepped out of her midnight blue floor-length gown, aware of Jay's eyes fixated on her. The rhinestones on the gown hit the floor, echoing loudly in the quietness and stillness of the vast room. By some mad impulse earlier in the evening, Daisy had chosen not to wear anything under her dress.

"Why, you're blushing, Monsieur. Aren't artists used to the feminine figure?" Daisy teased.

Jay was too overcome with lust to answer her. He gestured wordlessly to the bed, and Daisy, taking the hint, stepped delicately across the floor and towards the cushions and shawls.

"Just...just lie on one cushion, place your right arm on it. Put your eyes on me, keep them on me. Left arm on your...leg," Jay swallowed nervously. Her nakedness was extremely distracting.

"So...serious!" Daisy gave a tinkly little laugh. "You look so cool," she added dreamily, almost as an afterthought. "That cool artist..." her voice trailed away.

She watched with fascination as Jay picked up a pencil in his trembling hand and slowly began to sketch her outline, brows furrowed in concentration.

Time slowly ebbed by, and just as Daisy was beginning to feel drowsy, Jay whispered, breaking the lazy, comfortable silence, "Darling, it's done." And before Daisy could reply, he continued in a low, husky voice, "And my reward?"

"Why, show me the drawing first. How can I determine what I'll give if I haven't even seen the work yet?" Daisy said in mock outrage. She picked herself off the bed and bounded across the room and behind Jay.

"Ahhh...I see a nice likeness there...though I must say my thighs are certainly skinnier than that," Daisy criticised the drawing teasingly, her hot breath on the nape of Jay's neck.

"You were distracting." Jay stated in a mock matter-of-fact voice, arching his neck and kissing her full, pink lips. They reminded him of ripe, juicy strawberries.

"Let's dance!" Daisy exclaimed suddenly, hauling Jay to his feet.

"Whatever you want, darling." he replied indulgently, smiling at her as though she was the most precious jewel in the world that had come into his possession.

The night had faded away in a haze of dancing, countless tender kisses and promises of eternal love. All too soon, the sun had risen, chasing away the night that Daisy never wanted to end.

"Oh Jay, I don't ever want to go back home..." she whispered sadly. "I want to stay with you forever."

"Then don't, darling. Then don't go back. You don't need to, we'll be happy together. We'll run away to Paris, like you wanted to." Jay's voice was forceful.

"And we'll draw different pictures every day and dance from dawn till dusk till the day we die." Daisy continued dreamily. "And we'll be in love, so in love, the envy of everyone." she said softly.

And slowly, they waltzed across the room, Daisy's head resting on Jay's shoulder, in an intimate manner that Daisy and Tom never shared.

Seventeen years later, Daisy could still feel the strong, warm hands holding her and the reassuring, steady beat of Jay's heart against her body.

Holding the drawing tightly in her left hand, with tears streaming down her wasted face, Daisy closed her eyes, and pictured Jay standing in front of her. And slowly, she waltzed across the room, a lone figure silhouetted by the crescent moon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Daisy's hallucinations get even wilder in this chapter and she even thinks that Jay is ordering her to attack the people in the drawing room! (She is losing grip on her memory to such an extent that she doesn't even recognise the people as people, but instead as wild, tormenting beasts, poor Daisy.) **

**Hope you guys enjoy this chapter and reviews are very much appreciated! :)**

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A few nights later, as she lay in bed, drunken shouts and squeals could be heard from the drawing room. Daisy reached for a pillow and pressed it hard across her head, trying in vain to block out the noise. She knew that her husband was having fun with his pompous friends and his, as well as their mistresses. It was what had been going on in her house for the past few years, but whenever they had another of their drunken parties, it was still like a slap in her face.

"Wife, what wife? You mean that crazy old bat pining away in her rooms all day?" Tom's voice, magnified by the bottles of wine rang out clearly in her room. The spiteful laughter that followed his statement caused Daisy's blood to boil. She sprang up from her bed and before she could change her mind, slammed open her bedroom door, grabbed her dressing gown and stalked to the drawing room, giving no thought to her bedraggled appearance.

Taking a deep breath, Daisy put her hand on the polished golden handle and turned it.

"Oho! Look who's here!" Tom swaggered unsteadily to the door, his index finger pointing at her. "Didn't I tell you she's out of her mind?" he said cruelly.

Even before Daisy's eyes could adjust to the blinding lights, she could hear the raucous laughter and stinging remarks all around her.

The mess of shapes and colours gradually grew more definite as Daisy took in her surroundings.

But...but...Daisy thought in horror, where was the people? She could only see disfigured creatures resembling animals crowded around her.

"Come, come, join the party then, Mrs Buchanan!" Daisy turned to the voice issuing from her left and was paralysed with shock. It came from a sneering two-headed Snake who had placed an extra sarcastic emphasis on "Mrs".

It would have been amusing if the scene had been part of a bizarre play, but from Daisy's viewpoint, it was far from amusing. It was real to her, the monstrous animals, the hurtful words. Even the hands reaching out for her were not hands, but sharp, lethal claws dripping with blood.

Daisy let out a frightened whimper, drawing even more laughter and sneers from the unsympathetic group.

"A glass of wine, only the best for the famous Daisy!" the snake reached out for a glass of white wine and pausing for a dramatic moment, emptied it over her dressing gown, drawing cheers from the onlookers.

Daisy squeezed her eyes shut. It wasn't real, she told herself fearfully. It couldn't be real. It's just your imagination acting up...she cajoled herself. How could the most popular, privileged rich girl, the life of the party, end up like this, a humiliated, sodden mess?

Her knees gave way and she fell back onto the nearest chair. The circle of animals crowded around her, taunting her mercilessly.

The room seemed to swim before her eyes and just when she was on the verge of passing out, Daisy spotted the familiar golden locks behind the wild, threatening circle. Her heart gave a leap of joy, her guardian angel had arrived.

"Jay!" Daisy called out desperately. All she wanted was to escape from the nightmare she had walked into.

The voices of the beasts rose in a sharp crescendo. Tom stepped forward and seized her roughly by her shoulders, "You stupid woman, your lover is dead, he won't come to your rescue! Look around, he's no where to be found!"

Daisy glared into the depths of his arrogant eyes. "Liar," she spat, "He's right behind you."

Her words only caused the laughter to grow even louder.

"Stand up for yourself Daisy, be my brave little lady!" Jay's voice rang out, breaking across the din. His eyes locked with Daisy's uncertain ones and gave her the courage she needed.

Jay motioned to the spilt wine bottles lying on the glass tables and suddenly, Daisy knew what she was going to do. A wild sense of reckless overcame her and Daisy Buchanan, the seemingly demure lady, picked up a bottle and in a swift, fluid motion, brought it down on the snake and the beasts nearest to her.

Screams of terror replaced the laughter and jeers so abundant mere seconds ago. Crimson, warm blood was gushing from the wounds of Tom's guests. Daisy gave a tinkly, bone-chilling laugh.

"Stop it, Daisy, stop it right this moment!" Tom tried desperately to get hold of her, but he was no match for the raving Daisy.

"Let go of me!" she shouted, her eyes blazing.

All of a sudden, Daisy looked around wildly. "Jay, Jay, are you proud of me? Jay, where are you? Look at me, I can protect myself!" Her sudden burst of strength faded away as quickly as it had appeared and she whimpered the words, as helpless as a lost child.

"Jay?" She tried again. He had melted away, leaving her standing limply, broken bottle held in her hand, covered with the blood of strangers.


End file.
